Chapter 1

Chilly. Chilly and almost damp. She slumped over, shivering. Her limbs were covered in goosebumps, the fine hairs standing on end. She ran her arms along themselves, trying to raise her internal temperature again. Her eyes opened, green iris' dilating to accommodate the flow of light. Nothing but gray and fuzz.

Oh God, I'm blind!

She shut her eyes tightly, rubbing them furiously, then tried them again. They felt filmy, like she'd been sleeping for a long time. Still nothing but gray, shapeless fuzz. Her heart rate increased, well into the danger zone. She wasn't blind, she had 20/20 vision!

What happened? Why can't I see? Where...what?

Her mind was in chaos, fried like a radio antennae hit by lightening. Name...what was her name? It felt like she was digging through an empty hole, searching for something long buried but removed. She couldn't remember anything, but still...something popped into her head:

DNA contains three, no four, nucleotides, possible codons: 64! C-ten H-sixteen N-five O-thirteen P-3: Adenosine triphosphate!

Utter gibberish, what was she thinking? It was the ramblings of a lunatic. Wait...it was familiar...chemistry! Biochemistry! She couldn't get enough of it! More of it rattled off in her head. It all made perfect sense; she knew what a monosaccharide was, the four heirarchies of protein. But what about her? Still, there was nothing of who was conjuring up the fantastic images and data of the human body. Who was the young woman with green eyes? Her hands shot to her head, gripping auburn bangs. Didn't she have a name?

R...Rachel...no, Rebecca! Rebecca...Chambers!

In a flood, her memory restored itself. Family, friends, and past all flowed into Rebecca's mind. She blinked back tears in her still sightless eyes, a warmth spreading throughout her body. Identity was like a blanket, reassuring her that she just wasn't a hollow shell. How could she have forgotten who she was?

Rebecca was Rebecca, and she like biochemistry. How old was she? Eighteen and four months. She was smart, already out of college; a real whiz kid. She didn't have a job, not yet, not until she got her feet wet in-

S.T.A.R.S!

Another flood of memory. She was Bravo team's medic, the youngest ever recruited in the Special Tactics and Rescue Service. She only had one assignment so far; the investigation into the cannibal murders had gone to hell. They were betrayed, set up. They almost died; most of them did die. Edward and Kenny and Forrest, and more. They all died! It was Captain Wesker and Umbrella. S.T.A.R.S knew too much, so they killed them. Wesker shot her, shot her! Tried to kill her! But she had her vest, lucky lucky. Chris saved her, and they killed a monster and escaped.

Even further back. She'd been separated from Bravo team. Umbrella's secret training facility, the train, Marcus, Billy. She let Billy go, after they killed Marcus. He was innocent, and he didn't deserve to die. Then the horror at the mansion, but she survived. She survived with Chris, Jill, Barry, and Brad. They got out of Raccoon, and were ready to put Umbrella down for good-

-still cold. Rebecca looked down. She was wearing white scrubs, a short sleeve shirt with loose pants, very thin with no insulation. She could see again! Everything was a little blurry at first, but it was all there. Her hands, ten pink fingers against a gray floor. Ten toes curling for warmth against themselves. She really wanted a mirror, to confirm the green eyes her mother had lovingly said were almost too bright. But why was she dressed like this?

The room she was in had no definite shape. It was only four walls of segmented gray. It was soft and cushy. Pads...she was in a padded room. The panic rose in her chest again. She shouldn't be here, not in a padded cell. But where should she be? She couldn't remember. No faces or locations. She remembered Raccoon, but after that, it all went hazy and fizzled out.

Door, I have to find the door...I have to get out.

There it was, in the corner, also gray. Rebecca stumbled to her feet and tried the knob. Locked. She hit the door with her small fist, but it barely made a sound. She fell back away from the door, pressing her back into the pads of the room. Her mousy auburn bangs began to stick to her forehead. Despite her chill, she was sweating. Claustrophobia was setting in; the room had definitely shrunk a few square feet in the last second.

The door opened, and her heart shot into her throat. It was a man, a large one at that. He was dressed a bit like her, in scrubs, but a little more comfortable looking. He even had shoes. He had a badge clipped to his shirt. Rebecca didn't see the name, only the red and white umbrella on it.

Umbrella! Oh God, it's Umbrella...

Quickly, she darted to the opposite corner, wishing she could disappear into the wall. The man stepped into the room, tracing her with his eyes carefully. He had one arm out, low to his body, as if she were dangerous. He began to edge closer, looking as if he was going to say something. Something snapped inside of her. Every fiber of her body screamed to get out. Rebecca bolted to the door, but met the man head on instead. He had no problem snatching her by the arm, rooting her to the spot.

Rebecca screamed and thrashed, which only served to wrench her shoulder in its socket. The man hiked her back, further into the cell. She resorted to beating on his arm, essentially a rabbit kicking a rhino. He caught her other arm, then coiled his around hers, locking her into a full-nelson, hiking her off her feet, where her legs kicked uselessly into the air in front of her. She didn't even weigh a hundred pounds; she may as well have been a feather.

"NOO!" she screamed. This was wrong, terribly wrong. "NO! NO!"

She didn't even hear the man yell something. Another man entered, carrying something that made her eyes bulge: a straitjacket. Rebecca shrieked again as the first man forced her arms into sleeves of the unforgiving garment, while the second forced her arms to cross themselves. The first strapped them down tightly with the buckles at her back, then hauled her to the corner of the room, plunking her to the ground. The two men left as suddenly as they came.

Rebecca clamored to her feet, with some difficulty without her hands, then began to kick at the door. The force of the blow resonated up her leg, turning it into a dull ache. She didn't stop kicking or screaming. Eventually, her body won, and she collapsed, her right leg on fire. She then proceeded to scream herself hoarse. Only then did she realize there were hot tears streaming down both of her cheeks.

"This is wrong!" she croaked at the door. "Please! I shouldn't be here!"

The door gave her no answer. Feebly, she gave it one last kick, then scooted back to a corner on her butt, sobbing. Umbrella didn't have her, it couldn't; she was with Chris, Jill, and Barry. They would never let them take her away. It was all just a prank, some new recruit garbage they hit her with. A little twisted, but any minute the punch line would be obvious, and they would all laugh-

-God why can't I remember?!

She tried again and again, looking for some tiny link that would cause a flood of memory, just like her identity and S.T.A.R.S. No matter how hard she tried, there was nothing. No memory of herself being captured, no memory of where she had been last. They were planning to leave soon, to go to Europe, but was that even right?

There was only the chilly room and the coarse fiber of her imprisoning jacket. The claustrophobia came again. The room shrank even further. Rebecca thrashed again, but the jacket may as well have been a steel cocoon. She mashed her head into the padding of the wall behind her, biting her lower lip. She had to get a grip, she was beyond hyperventilation. If she kept going she'd pass out, and the that was the last thing she wanted to happen. What were they going to do to her when that happened?

Focus! Breathe slowly. Niiice and sloooww...in and out...

Her breaths came out in short rapid jerks from her sobbing, but after a few seconds, began to control themselves. Her chest still heaved in the restrictive coat, but now slowly. The sobbing disappeared, now replaced by a silent stream of tears. Never in her life was she more confused.

She could remember everything from the past: childhood memories, college, the time she puked when she went to a house party, everything that was there was in her head. She remembered the mansion incident, and the terror she went through, as well as the friends she lost. After that, her memory was a frayed rope, spiraling outward until it disappeared altogether. She was sure of who she was, but what really frightened her was not knowing if the others were okay.

Chris, Jill, Barry...please be okay, wherever you are. Please, you have to be okay!

Rebecca curled into a ball for warmth. Her breathing was finally back to normal, but her heart rate was still through the roof, probably hovering around 90 beats a minute. It would probably stay like that until something started to make sense.

She was in a padded cell, that was certain, and that was real. She wasn't dreaming, or more accurately, having a nightmare. The discomfort was genuine. The two men, they looked like orderlies.

Am I in a hospital?

At any rate, they hadn't hurt her. Their assault was provoked by her panicked attempted escape. But what was the point of just restraining her then leaving? They easily overpowered her, were in complete control. Then they just left to let her cook. Like a mental patient. The thought made her chin quiver.

I'm not crazy...I'm NOT crazy...

Rebecca refused to believe it. Her setting and situation was telling her that she was a patient. That was impossible. But...the gap in her memory...it sat in her mind like a wound that refused to close. She snuggled closer into the pads, sniffing. Now her nose had began to run from her crying. It was annoying, and it made her feel even worse, but with no sleeve or hands to wipe it, she'd have to settle for sniffing.

But believe what she did, she couldn't shake a growing dread in her gut. If her surroundings were real, if the straitjacket securing her arms was tangible, then she was here for a reason. She had been captured by Umbrella, and was now their prisoner. Or there was the alternative:

She was insane.

An hour later, the door's locks released, startling her. She curled into a tighter ball as it opened, wishing that she could disappear. Someone was coming in.

Author's Note: Crap, these are going to be at the end of all my entries now! This is just a little project I'm doing to keep posting while I work on heavier stuff. Sorry Lara for not doing your idea. I will do it eventually, I just have a couple of things I wanted to do first.

What can we expect about the story from this strange chapter? Everything, of course.